


going through the unimaginable

by xoalenko (spacebarista)



Series: Kaidan Appreciation Week 2016 [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Loss, F/M, Female Character of Color, Kaidan Appreciation Week, Miscarriage, Post-Reaper War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6294379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebarista/pseuds/xoalenko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Kaidan Week Day 4: Loss. A sort of companion piece to my fic "(the moments when you’re in so deep) it feels easier to just swim down". Just when he thinks they've given enough, Kaidan faces a staggering loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	going through the unimaginable

**Author's Note:**

> Due to work and lack of energy, this had been the first fic I managed to finish for Kaidan Appreciation Week. It takes place during the events of my fic ["(the moments when you’re in so deep) it feels easier to just swim down"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5938413). Both are inspired by the song ["It's Quiet Uptown"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrsmUzqweBI) from the musical Hamilton.
> 
> Friendly reminder: if you are triggered or made uncomfortable by miscarriages, PLEASE STOP HERE.

Kaidan had hoped it would be a long time before he had to step into a hospital again. He’d spent more time than he’d ever care for in hospitals. Recovering from his implant, getting cleaned up after his battle with Vyrnnus, an extended stay in the medbay after Virmire, sitting pretty in a coma followed by lengthy bedrest after Mars, more quality medbay time after the Normandy’s crash landing, and a few months seated at Shannon Shepard’s side during her own long hospital stay after the war. And those are just the more significant visits.

  


He’s an old soldier. Pain, blood, injuries… they come with the territory. He’d done his time as a field medic, he knows the score. But after all the loss and all the miracles, he had thought that maybe he and his wife had finally earned some peace. They shouldn’t have been back here for another five months at least.

  


Apparently they still have more to give. More to lose.

  


The call had come in just as he and the newest additions to his division were suiting up for another simulation. One of the kids who worked in his front office had barrelled into the locker room, gasping for air and eyes wide with horror. Kaidan had known it was Shannon. He was out in the hall before the girl could even get anything out, shouting orders at the highest ranked recruit over his shoulder. He managed to hold his own fear at bay until he landed the skycar at the hospital. He doesn’t remember the doctor’s exact words upon his arrival outside Shannon’s room. The implication was heavy enough that he doesn’t have to.

  


They’d lost the baby.

  


A shaky sigh escapes the Admiral, and his head falls into his hands. Anxious fluttering takes root deep in his gut. For a fleeting second, he fears he’s going to lose his lunch _and_ breakfast. She’d left the orchard before he had, muttering about a day of meetings as she’d pressed a kiss to his temple. Happy. Content. How quickly had that turned to horror? She’s enjoyed her position, shiny and new as it is. Admiral Shannon Shepard, the Alliance’s Liaison to the Galactic Council. She gets to see their friends more often than not, and old contacts from as far back as their early days on the Normandy. By far her favorite dinner topics are how people and aliens they’d met briefly in their missions are doing in the midst of rebuilding. It gives her hope. Makes everything worth it for her.

  


Just as their baby would have.

  


They work on different sides of Vancouver—Shannon at HQ and Kaidan out at the training base. It never feels far, an hour at most by skycar or shuttle. But the Alliance hospital is farther away at two hours. It had felt like a lightyear when Kaidan took the call from Traynor. Guilt gnaws at his already churning stomach. Had Shannon ordered her to call him as soon as she noticed something was wrong? Or had she waited until they were both at the hospital, the doctors confirming every fear she has, giving her her options before calling him?

  


No matter when, Shepard had needed him. And again, Kaidan wasn’t there.

  


His breath comes out shorter, his chest tightens. Kaidan had been… _thrilled_ when Shannon had told him. He had never talked about it much. He hadn’t been sure how she felt about children, and he hadn’t wanted her to feel pressured to do what he wanted. Not all women want to have kids, let alone _carry_ them. He knew plenty of old soldiers and civilians who planned on adopting. There were many war orphans. He’d count himself lucky to have any of those kids living with him. But the thought of a child made with Shannon, with the woman he loves… something about it has endless appeal, makes his chest swell with emotion.

  


It used to, anyway. Now it leaves a deep ache there instead.

  


For a moment he remembers her delighted cry as he’d picked her up, spun her around in his own excitement. Their own family. A family for _Shannon_. She’d made her own family aboard the Normandy, built out of her crew and friends. His mother and father had adopted her like she was always there. But something told him she missed the familial connection she’d lost years ago on Mindoir. This had been her chance to have that again. He feels his sense of loss double.

  


Oh, God… Shannon. A sob starts to escape him and he covers his mouth before it can get out. He can feel pitying eyes on him from passing nurses and staff. They shouldn’t worry about him. What about _her_? She’s suffered more loss in her life than anyone should, even without the war. There shouldn’t be _more_ loss for her now that it’s over. She should have peace, happiness. Hasn’t she earned it by now?

  


He tries not to think about himself. Tries and fails. He’s been through a lot himself, sure. For a very long time, he wasn’t sure he could be loved. Or even liked. Not after having “killer” spat at him, after having his friends— _Rahna_ —look at him like a monster… He’d shut himself off. His biotics did enough of that for him. He took it the extra mile and kept to himself. Resigned himself to having no close friends, no love, no one he could disappoint. No one he could scare away.

  


Then he met Commander Shannon Shepard, hero of the Skyllian Blitz. A few missions and late night conversations later, his plan went out the airlock.

  


Kaidan never imagined that such an extraordinary person could fall in love with him. That she could still love him after the way he lashed out at her on Horizon. After his cruel words on Mars and their stand-off on the Citadel. He had been so grateful for her forgiveness. And even more grateful that she’d somehow survived the destruction of the Crucible. This child was supposed to be the symbol of their future, the one they both thought they’d never have. The one they wanted together.

  


He had wanted this so badly. For himself, for her, for _them_. And now it’s gone. He can feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He struggles to breathe. It just _hurts_. It hurts to lose something that had meant so much to them. He fights back the images of the past few days, of his hand on Shannon’s where it had rested on the swell of her stomach as he’d said goodbye. Of her taking pictures of her growing belly in front of a mirror to update Tali and bother Garrus with. Of her seeing how successful she’d be at balancing something on it on the sofa while apologizing to the life inside it. Of his ear pressed to her warm skin as she brushed her fingers through his hair, humming softly.

  


She’d been so happy. He’d been so happy. As hot tears slide down his cheeks and over his fingers he’s not sure what he’s mourning more: their child or their happiness.

  


“Admiral Alenko?”

  


Kaidan’s head snaps up, gaze lifting from the floor to land on the weary nurse peeking out from Shannon’s room. She gives him a small, sad smile when his eyes meet hers. He sniffs, straightening, thankful for the wall at his back to keep him on his feet.

  


“Yes,” he breathes. He doesn’t trust his voice and clears his throat to strengthen it. “Sorry. That’s me.” It’s pointless. He’s the only one in any form of Alliance dress in the wing. The tears are a dead giveaway. But her smile doesn’t waver and she steps out before gesturing to the door.

  


“Admiral Shepard’s asking for you, sir.”

  


Kaidan takes a shaky breath. Then another. His gaze falls back to the floor, away from the nurse’s kind eyes. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll just—”

  


A tissue appears in his line of vision, and he follows the hand holding it back to the nurse’s face. _Admiral Shepard’s asking for you._ Shit. Shannon’s more than asking for him. She _needs_ him. As broken, lost as he feels… it’s nothing compared to what she must be feeling right now. He takes another deep breath before taking the tissue with a nod of thanks.

  


“I’ll leave you two alone. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call the desk.”

  


He nods again, and the nurse squeezes his arm before heading down the hall to her station. Kaidan takes his time to wipe at his eyes, blow his nose, look strong and steady and not like he’s falling apart. He knows well that that is the Kaidan Shannon fell in love with. The man who gets up every time he’s knocked down, fiercer and more resilient than before.

  


That’s the Kaidan they’ll both need if they’re going to get through this.

  


He tries not to hesitate when he opens the door. He still does, but only to make sure he’s standing straight. She looks small in the bed. But it’s a vast improvement—for the most part—from the last time he’d taken his first steps into her hospital room. She’s pale, but all in one piece. The biggest improvement from the image burned into his brain is that she’s awake. Her head is turned away from him, eyes focused on the window looking out over the city that held so much meaning for the both of them. Her hands are resting on her stomach and he does his best not to let his gaze linger there. She doesn’t look at him when the door shuts with an audible click. He’s shamefully glad for it. It gives him a second more to solidify his control over the dam threatening to break inside of him.

  


“Shan? It’s me,” he says, almost lamely. What are you even supposed to say? _I’m sorry our baby died_ _before it was even born?_

  


It’s hard to miss sharp intake of breath when she hears his voice. He knows she’s isn’t scared. Or… more like her desire to have him there is stronger than her fear of their position. Still, he waits to step forward until she turns her head. She needs her time as much as he had needed his. Her eyes shine with unshed tears when they finally meet his.

  


“Kaidan,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion. He can hear the relief more than anything. “Kaidan, I’m _so_ sorry.”

  


His brows draw together. “Sorry? For _what_ , sweetheart?” He sees her full lip tremble, her eyes trying to fall on anything but him and his concerned face. Kaidan feels his resolve cracking when he sees her face. It’s hard to see Shannon like this. It’s a sight he’s rarely seen, even during her physical therapy. She’s usually so determined, so strong that she can get through anything. Hell, she can find positivity in almost everything. Seeing her look so broken and hurt… it threatens to make him crumble. He can hear the sob trying to break through when she takes a deep breath.

  


“For losing our baby.”

  


Kaidan stiffens, for a moment unsure what to do. “Why are you apologizing?”

  


Finally tears break through, and Shannon gasps slightly as she stops holding back. Had she been doing so for him? “Kaidan, it was _my_ body. I did something _wrong._ I had to have, why else would this have happened? It’s _my_ fault, Kaidan. And I’m so—”

  


“ _Hey_.” Kaidan stops her. Crosses the room in two strides and sits in the chair at her bedside. His hands grab one of hers, and he presses his lips to her knuckles. When he pulls her hand away from his mouth, one of his moves to brush her hair from her face, to cup her jaw in his palm. “It is _not_ your fault, okay? These things happen sometimes. For no reason. It’s horrible, and it’s not fair. But never think it’s your fault.”

  


She sniffs, squeezes his hand and leans into his touch. “But… you wanted this _so bad_.”

  


Kaidan’s own breath comes out shaky at that. Is that why she’s upset? Not for herself, not for her own physical, emotional, mental pain… but for his? He doesn’t want that. He _never_ wants that. This is about _her_.

  


“Shannon… I did. I know that. But you’re okay. You’re alive. That’s what I want more. Because…” He stops, takes a breath. Steadies himself before he loses it again. He has to stay strong for her. Her strength. Her soft place to land. “Because I can’t do that, _any_ of this… without you. I don’t want to. We can try again. When you want, if you want. As long as you’re here I have hope. It’ll happen for us. So don’t be sorry. You’re still with me. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  


Shannon sobs then. She holds her other arm out and Kaidan is happy to oblige her. He moves as close as he can, taking her in his arms and holding her tighter than she holds him. He can feel her tears on his neck, feels them drip down into his collar. He shushes her as he strokes a hand over her hair.

  


“It’s going to be okay, love,” he whispers, tilting his head to kiss at the side of hers. “We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

  


She hugs him even tighter and kisses his jaw. “I love you so much, Kaidan.”

  


“I know. I love you, too. And _that’s_ why we’re going to be okay.”

  


He doesn’t know it’ll be a long time before it finally happens for them. That there will be more loss before they ever meet a child of their own. That a second time will be far worse than the first for the both of them. But he knows one thing: staying strong for Shannon is how he can deal with his own grief. Taking care of her, keeping her positive and hopeful… that’s what he’ll do. He’ll do it for him. He’ll do it for the child they lost and the ones they’re sure to have. He won’t push, but he’ll be there. He’ll be there when she needs him. That’s what he can do. That’s what he does.

  


They’ll get through it all together, as it’s meant to be.


End file.
